


Family Reunion

by MiraMira



Category: Order of the Stick
Genre: 1000-3000 words, Family, Humor, Jossed, Multi, Romance, slapstick violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 19:58:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiraMira/pseuds/MiraMira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haley's search for her father doesn't turn out quite as she'd expected.  But there's a happy ending after all - for Elan, at least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family Reunion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lorelei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorelei/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide, Lorelei! I'm actually a non-roleplaying fan of the strip, so I'm afraid that limits my ability to make references, but I hope the Haley/Elan cuteness suits - and I tried to give Belkar and V some good bits.

My beloved Kyrie,

So much has transpired since my last missive that I scarce know where to begin this account. As you know, while our search for the remaining Gates has encountered a wall which I fear may only be brought down by Xykon and his actions, our efforts at intelligence gathering turned up news of Miss Starshine's captured father: namely, a jailbreak by the prisoners in the land which was once Tyrania. Alas, no other news could be gleaned of his fate, but greatly moved by Miss Starshine's distress and lacking any other activity, we resolved to investigate.

I shall spare both you and myself the details of our infiltration strategy, or I shall undo the work of many goblets of mulled wine nobly sacrificed to the cause of erasing the image of Masters Bitterleaf and Elan in dresses from my memory. Suffice it to say that after many travails, we reached the throne room of what the sentries had informed us (before we incapacitated them) was now New Kleptopolis. There, we encountered a warrior clad entirely in black armor seated upon the throne: an odd choice, given the climate, but suitably imposing. Before it could do more than rise, Master Bitterleaf (thankfully clad once more in his ranger garb) sprang to its shoulder and wedged a dagger into the space between its helmet and the body of its suit, somehow demonstrating enough restraint not to twist. "All right, tall, dark, and dictatorial. No funny stuff, or I'll slice off worse than your kneecaps."

"Belkar, let me handle this," said Miss Starshine, turning to the armored figure (and thereby missing Sir Greenhilt's expression of annoyance). "You're the one in charge here?" It nodded, barely. She notched her bow. "I'm looking for information on a prisoner named Ian Starshine. Find me someone who knows what happened to him, and I _might_ be able to persuade my friend here to let you off without any flesh wounds."

At the name, the figure gave a start, shaking off the halfling in the process. "Haley?" it asked, in a deep tone made more resonant by the helmet.

"How do you know that?" demanded Miss Starshine, holding back her arrow for the moment. "Did my father tell you?"

The figure removed its helmet, revealing a pale-skinned human male in apparent peak physical condition for his many years (how many, I could not venture to say, never having fully grasped the rapidity with which other races age). "Haley, I _am_ your father."

Miss Starshine, the first of the party to recover from the shock of this revelation, dropped to her knees. "**Nooooo!**"

"I dunno, Haley," Master Bitterleaf said, his hand stroking his chin and his eyes even more squinted than usual in a persuasive imitation of thought. "There's a pretty strong physical resemblance there." (It was true; not even the halfling could fail to notice the threads of ginger running through the king's otherwise silver beard.)

"Aye," Master Thundershield agreed.

"It _does_ make a lot of dramatic sense," Master Elan felt the need to chime in.

Although Miss Starshine had recovered her footing, she remained otherwise motionless, eyebrows stubbornly fixed in a downward point. I could see that, as usual, it was left to me to elucidate any reason for concern. "As would a disguise and a modicum of acting ability. Permit me to dispense with the former. Dispel Ma—"

"No need, V," Miss Starshine interrupted. "I'm sure it's him."

As I was about to inquire why then she refrained from embracing the object of her quest in joyous reunion, she drew back her bowstring and let loose an arrow. His Majesty ducked just in time to avoid its entanglement in his locks.

"Haley!" cried our party in unison: excluding the halfling, who appeared disturbingly aroused to a degree I had not seen for some time. But Miss Starshine had no ear to spare for us. Only Sir Greenhilt's quick reflexes and strong grip prevented her from springing upon her quarry with blade in hand.

"You _bastard!_ I risk my life leaving the Thieves' Guild and put away every scrap of gold I get to pay your ransom, interrupt _saving the world_ to come rescue you, and you couldn't freakin' Send a message telling me not to worry?!"

"I had no idea they'd even asked for a ransom," protested His Majesty. "To be honest, I was out of it for a lot of my time in the dungeon. Then the coup happened and I was freed along with the rest of the prisoners. 'Course, the new regime didn't last very long either, so I stepped into the power vacuum, and…well, it's been one thing after another since then." He smiled: genuinely at first, then with increasing anxiety as Miss Starshine maintained her warlike stance. "But it looks like you've got a nice little gig going for yourself, so…no harm done, right?"

Sir Greenhilt struggled to maintain his hold. "Haley, believe me, I can empathize when it comes to fratricidal urges, but maybe we should sit down and talk about this…"

"Shut up, Roy!" snapped Miss Starshine, breaking free of his grasp. "After all the mental anguish I've been put through over this, the least he owes me is the cost of a Resurrection spell."

"So that's how it's going to be." The king reached behind the throne and produced his own impressive crossbow. "Well, pumpkin, I brought you into this world. If you insist on a time-out from it, I can always oblige."

"Just a minute, Your Majesty." Sir Greenhilt stepped forward, his own weapon unsheathed. "As I said, I'm no stranger to family conflicts, but Haley's my second-in-command, and a good friend besides. Threaten her, and you answer to all of us."

The halfling grinned at this, and to my horror, even the typically sensible Master Thundershield appeared to be nodding agreement. Deciding that matters had spiraled quite far enough out of control, I prepared to cast a Mass Hold Person, when Master Elan's voice rang out with all the bardic skill he could muster through his panic: "Wait! You can't do this, either of you!"

Miss Starshine's eye and bow remained trained on her father. "Give me one good reason. Other than 'it's not nice.'"

Master Elan's face fell, but to my surprise, he did not appear fully thwarted. "Because…" Several seconds of clear internal struggle ensued, before he blurted, "Because I need to ask his permission to marry you!"

Kyrie, were it not for the sound of Miss Starshine's arrow thudding harmlessly off the wall several inches to the left of her father's throne, I would have sworn I had indeed cast the spell. "Elan, you—you want to…?"

Master Elan cast his abashed gaze downwards, attempting to burrow his boot through the stone floor. "I'm sorry. I _wanted_ to wait until I had a ring and the perfect spot and time and everything and surprise you. But if I'm going to do this the right way, then I have to ask him. And he wouldn't be likely to say 'yes' if we drained his hit points, would he?"

"Oh, Elan." There were tears on Miss Starshine's cheeks as she kissed him, and new ones glittering in her eyes when she pulled away at last, but I had never seen a more radiant smile on any face — save one. "I'm not about to turn down a ring and a perfect spot if you want a do-over, but…Yes. No matter what, my answer is 'yes.'"

Master Elan's delighted expression turned pale as Miss Starshine's father brought a mail-covered hand down upon his shoulder. "Hang on a minute, kid. If you want my blessing, I think we'd better spend a few minutes getting to know each other first." He turned to Miss Starshine. "And maybe when that's done, I can get reacquainted with my little girl. Starting with this 'save the world' business."

"I'd like to have a word with you about that myself, Your Majesty," Sir Greenhilt interjected, eyeing the surrounding bookshelves. "You see, we're looking for information on a magical rift phenomenon that might or might not be in this area. They're unusually…"

Kyrie, you know the depths of esteem in which I hold Sir Greenhilt, and the urgency which I place upon our quest, but I could sense the bloodlust rising again in Miss Starshine. And I _did_ still have the spell prepared. "My apologies, Sir, but now is not the time. Hold Person!"

Miss Starshine gave me a grateful look. Master Elan seemed less thrilled at the prospect of continuing the discussion without delay, but mustered his courage and followed the king to one of the adjoining chambers.

What conversation transpired next, neither I nor any other member of the party can say, but the end result is that Miss—that is, _Princess_ Starshine will be wed a few days hence with all the pomp and circumstance the royal treasury can bear under short notice. His Majesty will, of course, accompany his daughter down the aisle. Master Thundershield will perform the nuptials, Blackwing has graciously offered to instruct the doves to be set loose following the ceremony, and Master Elan has somehow persuaded Sir Greenhilt to serve as his "best man." Even the halfling was offered a role in the proceedings, but upon learning that I would be the Princess's only attendant, declined in favor of holding his "own personal bachelor party."

No, Kyrie, you are not in need of a corrective vision spell: I shall be at the Princess's side when she pledges her hand to Master Elan, and I shall do so with a joyful heart. For while the bard and I have had our differences, and while some part of me may yet resent him for monopolizing the affections of the dearest friend I have ever known — save one — I have come to believe, in spite of all logic, that there may be a wisdom stat point or two behind his philosophy that all the world is an epic song. And more importantly, I believe in the power of love to transcend imperfection and foolishness. For if it does, then there may yet remain hope for us as well, and I may one day set these letters down on paper and deliver them to you in person.

But here I must pause my tale, for my presence is required at a robe fitting, and Master Thundershield desires my expert opinion on one of the volumes in His Majesty's library. Until it resumes, know that I remain:

Ever yours,

Vaarsuvius

**Author's Note:**

> So, turns out I had the right reference, but the wrong long-lost parent. Oh, well. Guess the Oracle doesn't need to worry about any competition from me!


End file.
